


Slippery Slope

by thingswaitingtobewritten



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Brock, Hurt Clay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-01-01 07:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18331400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswaitingtobewritten/pseuds/thingswaitingtobewritten
Summary: A mission in the Andes mountains goes sideways as the team gets separated.





	1. Chapter 1

The Andes mountains were a nice change of pace from the dust and desert of Afghanistan. The air was relatively cool, the early morning fog had just descended down the slope, and the thin air was crisp. Bravo team plucked their way along a ridge, moving quickly so that they would reach their target on time. 

 

It was ruled to be too dangerous to travel the mountains in the dark, so they were forced to do a daylight raid of Bolivia’s most infamous drug lord, Erick Rossi. Usually, Bravo wouldn’t get involved with Bolivia’s affairs, but Rossi had just taken two American reporters hostage after they’d gone snooping around. In Sonny’s opinion, they’d gotten what they deserved. What did they expect, after all, trying to go after a drug lord for a story? Sonny didn’t like reporters very much, they were all too nosy. 

 

“HAVOC, this is One,” Jason keyed his radio as they passed a landmark that symbolized they were crossing into Bolivia, “We’re passing Breakpoint.” 

 

“Copy One, passing Breakpoint,” HAVOC responded. 

 

The team had gotten dropped off in a valley in Peru to cross into Bolivia, as there were no landing locations nearer to the HVT’s location. That just meant that they had to move faster in order to reach the target location, rescue the hostages, take in Rossi and make it back to exfil before dark. Speed wasn’t always the best option in the mountains, as Trent found out as his footing slipped, causing a small cascade of rocks to slide down the ridge. 

 

Clay hauled him up, “You good, brother?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He looked down at the river of dirt and rocks that he’d caused and whistled, “Wouldn’t want to get caught in a larger one of those.”

 

“Definitely not.” Clay agreed. 

 

They continued on hiking as the sun continued to rise. Even though they were going as quickly as they could, it was slow going. There were twists and turns and they had to be careful with where they put their feet. A lot of the rock was unstable and if too much weight was put on it, it could slip away and possibly cause a landslide. 

 

Around noon, they made it to the ridge above the HVT’s location. It was a stronghold in a small valley, nestled among high ridges. It made it easy to have overwatch, but very difficult to make it down there unseen. 

 

“Do we have a positive ID on the target?” Jason asked as Ray brought his scope up to his eye. 

 

“Yup,” Ray focused on a movement in a window on the side of the stronghold, “There’s Rossi.” 

 

“Any sign of the hostages?”

 

“Negative. They’re probably deeper in the building.”

 

Once a plan was in place to swarm the stronghold, the team got into their positions. They hold, waiting for the signal from Jason. 

 

“Go, go, go!” 

 

They all rushed down the slopes, more sliding than running. Their presence was quickly noticed, and bullets began flying. Ray, who was left on overwatch, quickly took down any hostiles that he could. 

 

The team methodically advanced on the stronghold, and after setting off charges on the door, they breached it and rushed inside. It didn’t take long for them to find the hostages and Rossi, and they leave almost as quickly as they came. 

 

“HAVOC, this is Bravo One, moving to exfil.” 

 

By the time the team, with their extra tagalongs, reached Ray, they were panting due to the steep climb. 

 

“I take back what I said early,” Sonny said through heavy breaths, “I don’t see myself doing this for fun.” 

 

They all chuckled and started their long way to exfil. 

 

 

******

 

With three extra people, all of whom weren’t used to the rigours of hiking, the group was making slow progress. They were halfway back when Rossi tried to break away from his captors and made a run for it up the mountain. They hadn’t put a hood on him because of how important foot placement was, but Jason was beginning to regret that. He’d caused them nothing but trouble so far. Clay easily caught up to the scrambling man and hauled him back down to the rest of the group. 

 

Jason sighed, “Tell him that if he doesn’t behave, we’ll put a bag over his head and let him trip over the ridge.”

 

“Escucha, necesitas comportarte, o te pondremos una bolsa en la cabeza. Entonces tropezarás y caerás a tu muerte.” Clay translated, harshly shoving Rossi back in the middle of the group. 

 

Rossi glared at all of them but complied. The group continued on, Jason keeping a close eye on him. 

 

The group was well behind schedule, and Jason was trying to get them to move faster when it happened. It started with a low rumbling, then the ground beneath their feet shook hard enough to bring everyone to their knees. Jason couldn’t believe it. Out of all the ops, it had to be the one that they were behind schedule on that an earthquake happened. Everyone hunkered down low to the ground as rocks above them were shaken loose. Slowly, the rumbling died down and the ground stopped shaking. 

 

Everyone got to their feet and Sonny let out a small laugh, “So that was an earthquake. That didn’t seem too bad to me.” 

 

As those very words were spoken, the ground began to heave again. This time the rumbling grew to a roar and when Clay looked up the mountainside, he saw a huge swath of loose dirt and rocks coming their way.

 

“Landslide!” He shouted, “We need to get out of its path!” 

 

It was no easy task, getting up to their feet and running. Sonny felt that it was like being under the table drunk and trying to run while the ground was moving. The roar was getting closer and rocks and dirt were already pelting the team. 

 

Clay and Brock were holding the rear, practically dragging Rossi along with them. They were lagging behind the rest of the team, Rossi fighting their grip and screaming something in Spanish that they couldn’t hear over the roar of tumbling earth. 

 

Jason had just turned back to check on the stumbling group when the pouring earth reached the back of the pack. He didn’t even have time to shout to warn them before Clay, Brock and Rossi disappeared under a downpour of rock and soil. The rest of the team and the two reporters had just made it past the edge of the landslide, but a more scattered amount of dirt and rocks still came down on them. Once the bombardment stopped, Jason looked back to where his brothers had been standing. They were gone. 

 

“HAVOC, this is Bravo One. Be advised, there was a landslide caused by an earthquake. We’ve….we’ve lost Three, Six and Rossi.” Jason stood, staring at the place where they’d just been. The path was now buried underneath dirt and he knew that the three men had been swept away. Whether or not they were still alive, Jason didn’t know. 

 

“Roger that, Bravo One.” Eric’s voice sounded tight, “The window for exfil is closing. You need to get the hostages to the exfil point.”

 

Sonny looked at Jason in desperation, “We can’t just leave them here! We need to go looking for them!”

 

Jason waved him off and keyed his radio again, “HAVOC, we’re moving to exfil.” It killed him to say those words, and the look on the rest of his men’s faces drilled into his heart. But he knew that they couldn’t get trapped on the mountains in the dark. They needed to move on. They would look for their brothers later. 

 

*****

 

Clay startled awake, coughing from the cloud of dirt that surrounded him. Once his eyes cleared, he looked around. He was surrounded by featureless mountainside and he couldn’t see the team, so he must’ve been swept pretty far down the slope. His arms and legs were partially buried under the heavy ground, but he figured he could dig himself out. That is until he moved his right arm. A sharp pain shot up his arm, and he swore. 

 

_Alright then, my arm’s broken._ Before he moved anything else, Clay took careful stock of everything else, wiggling his arms and legs under the soil. Other than his arm, the only other thing that was injured was his left ankle. That he didn’t think was broken, most likely just a bad sprain. With everything accounted for, he began digging himself out with his left hand. It was slow going, the loose dirt would spill in and replace what he’d just shovelled out. When he’d dug himself out, he was surprised to see that his right sleeve was dark and damp with blood. He gently pulled up his sleeve to check on what was bleeding and almost threw up once he saw the damage. 

 

White bone was poking through his skin on his forearm, glistening with blood. Clay was glad that he was sitting down, his head spun from the sight. It thankfully didn’t feel too painful, but he knew that once the adrenalin wore off it would hurt like hell. For several minutes he just sat there, staring at his arm and wondering what he was supposed to do about it. 

 

_If Trent were here, he’d know what to do._ Then Clay’s head jerked up. Brock had been with him! So had Rossi. Where did they go?

 

Clay gingerly got up on his feet, his knees almost buckling as he put weight on his ankle, but he forced himself to stay upright. He had to look for his brother. 

 

“Brock!” He shouted, scrambling along the side of the mountain, searching for any sign of his brother. 

 

A piece of fabric buried in the dirt caught his eye and he made his way to it as fast as he could. 

 

“Brock!” He sunk to his knees beside the fabric and began digging one-handedly. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

 

As more of the person was revealed, Clay’s heart sank. It wasn’t Brock, it was Rossi, who came out of the dirt coughing and sputtering. Once Rossi had recovered some, he turned to Clay and began speaking in Spanish rapidly and accusatorially. Clay felt as though his brain was filled with tv static and he couldn’t focus hard enough to pick up any of the words. 

 

“Stay here.” He said through gritted teeth, “I need to find Brock.” He stumbled to his feet and continued walking, scanning for anything other than dirt and rock. He knew that he should’ve stayed with Rossi and guard him, but all of his attention was focused on finding his brother. 

 

Clay doggedly kept searching for Brock, occasionally looking back at Rossi, who was sitting on the ground, seemingly in shock. Clay was starting to feel desperation rise up when he heard a grunt from several feet away. There, was a flash of camouflage and then there was Brock, sitting up.

 

“Brock! You okay buddy?” When Clay reached him, he could tell that something wasn’t right. Brock’s helmet was missing and he had a long gash on his temple. He looked right at Clay, but his eyes were unfocused. 

 

“ ‘Lay?” He muttered, eyelids fluttering closed. 

 

“I’m here bud, I’m here.” Clay pulled out his flashlight from his pack, careful not to jostle his arm too much. He flashed it in Brock’s eyes and got confirmation of what he’d feared. “You have a concussion, Brock, can you tell me where you are?” 

 

“Mount’ns.”

 

“Which country?” Clay asked, then realized that he didn’t even know which country they were in right now, they might’ve slid back into Bolivia or Peru. “Nevermind, what’s your partner’s name?”

 

“Cerberus,” Brock perked up a little, “He here?” 

 

“No, we didn’t take him for this op,” Clay explained, slightly concerned. Brock muttered something incomprehensible and closed his eyes. 

 

Clay sat back, trying to figure out a game plan. He was injured and still needed to set and splint his arm, Brock would most likely need help walking, and with Clay’s ankle, he didn’t think that he could do that. They wouldn’t make it far in the mountains, especially in the dark so they would have to go down the slope and hope to find a village somewhere. For that, he would need someone who could help Brock out. And chance had it, he had someone. 

 

“Get up,” Clay was too tired to try and translate that to Spanish, “You’re coming with us.” 

 

After some protests, and Clay threatening Rossi with his Glock, Rossi reluctantly came down to where Brock was still lying. 

 

Now for the fun part. 

 

“I need you to set my arm,” Clay told Rossi, “Arreglar el hueso. Hazlo recto.” 

 

Rossi looked even more hesitant to do it than Clay felt, but he held tightly onto Clay’s right hand. 

 

_Alright. 3….2…1…_

 

Clay yanked his arm back and screamed as the bone was pulled back under his skin. Spots swam in his eyes as he heaved for air, trying desperately not to throw up. He failed and vomited to the side. 

 

“Now we need to splint it.” He said more to himself than anything, Brock wasn’t listening and Rossi just looked at him, his face hard. 

 

Clay dug around his and Brock’s packs to find something long and straight that he could use to brace his arm. The best he could find was their two knives, they were long enough that they would support the break. He tore some gauze from the first aid kit into strips and used some of that to create padding. Clay was able to loosely tie the makeshift splint around his arm, then got Rossi to tighten it. With his arm set and braced, it was feeling slightly better. 

 

He then turned his attention to Brock, making sure that he didn’t miss any other injuries. Finding none, he taped gauze on his cut. Then he turned to Rossi, holding up the limited medical supplies. 

 

“You hurt?”

 

Rossi shook his head, “No.”

 

Clay debated using the rest of the gauze to wrap his ankle but then figured that his tactical boot would provide enough support. 

 

He stood, wavering slightly on his feet, before pulling a semi-conscious Brock to his feet. 

 

“We’re gonna get you home,” Clay promised, “I’ll make sure of it.” 

 

He situated Rossi on the other side of Brock, making sure he knew to hold onto his brother and help Clay support him. 

 

Then, looking down at the treacherous and seemingly endless slope that they needed to descend, he sighed. 

 

“Vamonos.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Sorry for any inconsistencies, especially with the Spanish, I used google translate. 
> 
> Escucha, necesitas comportarte, o te pondremos una bolsa en la cabeza. Entonces tropezarás y caerás a tu muerte. - Listen to me, you must behave or we will put a bag on your head. Then you will stumble and fall to your death.
> 
> Arreglar el hueso. Hazlo recto. - Fix the bone. Make it straight. 
> 
> Vamonos - Let's go. (this one I know from Dora the Explorer lol)


	2. Chapter 2

Brock’s legs gave out for the third time in the short while that they’d been walking down the mountain. Thankfully, Clay had braced for it and the wave of pain that came from the jostling was expected. 

 

“C’mon buddy,” Clay hauled Brock up one-handedly, “You gotta stay on your feet.”

 

Brock muttered something unintelligible, then groaned in pain as he opened his eyes and the light from the sun, although dimmed by the sunset, drilled into his skull. 

 

“I know,” Clay said sympathetically, “But we need to keep going.” 

 

With a glare from Clay, Rossi scowled and reluctantly put Brock’s arm over his shoulder again. Clay wasn’t sure how long it would take before Rossi realized that Clay wouldn’t be able to keep him with them. With his arm and ankle both pulsing with nauseating pain, he wouldn’t be able to bodily wrestle Rossi into submission, and Clay doubted that he would be able to reach his weapon once Rossi revolted. As long as the Bolivian drug lord would listen to him, Clay would count his lucky stars. 

 

Every stumbling step that the ragtag trio took sent pain rattling through Clay’s body, through putting weight on his ankle and the jostling of his arm. He and Brock both carried morphine in their packs, but Clay was hesitant to use it. He needed to be as clear headed as possible to help Brock and keep Rossi in line. 

 

They’d luckily found a path down the mountain that wasn’t covered in debris from the landslide, which made it slightly easier for Clay to walk compared to walking on loose soil. But even so, he was in a world of pain. The only way he could push it aside enough to keep limping on was focusing on the fact that Brock was getting increasingly worse. He had to keep his brother alive and get him to someone who could help him. 

 

Night descended on the group, making the going even more difficult. As they’d been on a daytime raid, the team hadn’t brought along their NODs, so the path in front of them was barely illuminated by the light of the moon. Clay had a flashlight in his pack, but he was hesitant to give it to Rossi, knowing that he could easily use it to take off and leave the two SEALs behind in the darkness. 

 

Clay tried not to let his guard down, he tried to pay attention to Rossi’s movements. He was a dangerous man, with Clay and Brock injured the way they were, Rossi could easily turn on them and possibly even kill them. But as the night wore on and the worry over Brock and the pain kept increasing, Clay found that his focus was slipping. 

 

It felt as though Clay was out of his own body, watching from a cloud as the three figures stumbled along the dark, rocky path. The pain was a distant memory, along with why they were in this situation in the first place. All that Clay knew was that he had to keep walking. He almost laughed out loud when his disassociating brain came up with the tune from Finding Nemo; ‘Just keep swimming, just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.’ 

 

What Clay didn’t notice was Rossi inconspicuously bending to the ground and picking up a rock the size of his fist. The group stumbled on for a couple of more steps, and then Rossi struck. The drug lord focused his attack on the blond one, he was the one who might be able to pull out his weapon. He swung the rock down hard on the SEAL’s already injured arm. The SEAL screamed and dropped to the ground, bringing his semi-conscious teammate with him. Rossi debated hitting the SEAL again but figured that with his arm, leg and injured teammate that he wouldn’t be going anywhere fast. With that, Rossi took off. 

 

Clay watched, writhing in pain, as Rossi’s figure disappeared into the darkness. He screamed again, from pain and frustration. Without Rossi’s help, there was no way that Clay would be able to get Brock to help. Desperation and pain overwhelmed him and he began sobbing, clutching onto Brock’s arm. 

 

Brock heard a scream, then felt his body impact with the ground. He fought through a painful, cloudy haze to try and help Clay. All he knew was that Clay was in trouble and he needed to help him. Brock came to a tentative awareness and was disorientated by the dark. Hadn’t it been light the last time he opened his eyes? He couldn’t see much, but what he could see was rocking back and forth like they were in the ocean. His head hurt so badly he could barely even think, but he knew that Clay was here somewhere. 

 

“ ‘Lay?” His arms clumsily felt around for him, and then came in contact with something. Clay was shaking so hard Brock thought he might be having a seizure. “Cl’y!” 

 

Brock didn’t know whether or not he should be touching Spenser, he didn’t know where or if he was hurt, or what was going on. His addled brain began to panic and disjointed images of the sun coming up and finding Clay lying still and pale beside him rushed in. Suddenly, Clay took a heaving breath and started babbling. 

 

“I’m so sorry Brock, I’m so so sorry.”

 

“Why…sorry?” Brock’s scrambled mind took ages to put the two words together. 

 

Clay didn’t answer him, and instead tried to shift his body to a more comfortable position, but cried out in pain as it jostled his arm. Brock’s mind cleared just a bit when he heard Clay yelp, that was something that he could fix. 

 

“Mor…morph-morph’ne,” He slurred out, but he felt as Clay vehemently shook his head. 

 

“No, I need to stay,” Clay winces, “I need to stay alert. There might be hostiles in these areas.” 

 

If rolling his eyes didn’t hurt, Brock would’ve done so. Always so stubborn, their Clay. Sometimes they had to do things for his own good, and this was one of those times. The dark concealed Brock’s movements as he fumbled around the pockets on his pants for one of the morphine syringes. Finding one, he clumsily uncapped it and then without hesitation, stabbed it into Clay’s upper arm. 

 

Clay yelped, “Why’d you do that?” As much as he was mad with Brock, he did appreciate the relief from the never-ending pain. Ironically, as the morphine fought back the pain, his mind was able to think a little more clearly. 

 

“Okay,” He thought out loud, “I don’t think that we can keep going in the dark, just the two of us.” Brock had lapsed back into a stupor now that his task was over and didn’t answer, so Clay continued talking to himself, “We’ll spend the rest of the night on the path, then in the morning either the team will find us or we’ll keep going.” 

 

_Please have it be that the team finds us._

 

*****

 

The remainder of Bravo team had just gotten the hostages to exfil by the time the sun had set. With grim faces, they boarded the helo with the hostages, knowing that without the proper gear they’d be unable to help their lost brothers. 

 

“Negative, it’s too risky,” Blackburn shot them down once Jason proposed simply grabbing the night gear and heading back out to the mountain immediately. 

 

“Our boys are out there!” Sonny protested, “How is it not too risky for them?”

 

Blackburn looked apologetic, “I’m sorry, but my hands are tied for this one, we’ll have to wait until sunrise to go get them.” 

 

The wait until sunrise was agonizing. They didn’t know if Brock and Clay had been buried alive by the landslide or if they were somewhere out there, walking around in the dark with who knows what kind of injuries. And then to add on to that, Rossi could be with him and Jason wouldn’t trust Rossi as far as he could throw him. 

 

Sonny spent the majority of the time pacing the floor until they were given the all clear to get into a helo and head up the mountain again. 

 

They were dropped off at the same valley they were yesterday and began the long hike up to where the landslide happened. If Brock and Clay were alive, their radios must’ve been destroyed, as there had been no contact since the earthquake. The team really had no way to find them other than go back to the landslide and then make their way down its path. ISR couldn’t fly over this area, so they had no eyes in the sky. 

 

It was a long hike, made even longer by the agonizing question of the status of their brothers. If they’d gotten buried by the debris, there was a chance that the team would never find them. Then there would be talk of sending in a search and rescue team trained in landslides, but the Bolivian and Peruvian government didn’t want others to know that there had been American Navy SEALs in the area. 

 

Without Rossi and the rescued hostages slowing them down, Bravo made good time back to where they’d lost Brock and Clay. 

 

“Careful where you step,” Jason warned, “The soil is loose.” 

 

Gingerly making their way down the mountainside, the team continued to scan the area for any sign of their teammates. All they could do was hope that they were still alive, waiting to be found. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two! I hope you enjoy. Also, have any of you seen the promo for next week's SEAL team? It looks intense and I can hardly wait. I think I've watched the promo like...20 times already lol. Hopefully this chapter will help tide you over until then :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so sorry for taking so long to update, my writing inspiration seems to burn bright and quick and then disappear into nothing. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> And thank you to everyone who commented, you all really helped in banishing my writers block and I really appreciate all of your kind words.

Clay and Brock’s night had been a long, arduous one. The morphine Brock had forcefully given Clay had worn off long ago and Clay was tentative to use more, as they had a limited supply and he knew that he would need some to even get up off of the ground. Since they had stopped moving, Clay’s muscles had stiffened up, broadcasting new aches and pains and making the old ones even more obvious. 

 

Clay hadn’t slept all night, switching between keeping watch and waking Brock up every hour to check on his cognitive functions. Brock wasn’t making any improvements with his slurred, confused answers, but he wasn’t getting worse and that was the main thing. 

 

The sun crested over the mountains at their backs, spilling light into the valley below them. If Clay wasn’t so on edge, he would’ve found it astoundingly beautiful. Instead, the light just brought the time that Clay had been dreading; getting up and getting moving. 

 

“Brock,” Clay shook his brother with his good hand, “Time to get up buddy.” 

 

Brock moaned but allowed himself to be maneuvered into a position that he could stand up from. Then came the moment that Clay had been steeling himself for all night. With nothing to hold onto, Clay moved first to his knees, got his good foot under him and pushed himself up with one arm, then teetered on one foot before putting his bad one on the ground. A sharp pain coursed up his leg like lightning and his leg gave out, sending him crashing to the ground. Clay bit his tongue hard to stop from screaming. Blood from his tongue pooled in his mouth and he spat it out to the side. 

 

“Okay,” He huffed after getting his breathing semi under control, “Morphine.” It definitely wasn’t advised to use morphine to mask pain enough to use the injured limb, doing so would certainly make the injury worse, but what other choice did he have? Clay pulled out one of the cartridges of morphine and injected it into his thigh. He waited for a minute or two for it the pleasant wash of relief to kick in, then went about the whole getting to his feet process again. 

 

This time he was able to get both feet underneath himself and stay on them. It was a small victory, he had much more work to be done. 

 

Clay braced himself the best he could and hauled Brock to his feet. During the night Clay had gone through Brock’s pack and reduced it enough that he could fit all the necessary items into his own. That way he wouldn’t have to support Brock and the extra weight that all of the gear brought. 

 

He pulled the semi-conscious man to his side, wrapping his good arm tightly around his waist. 

 

“Okay,” Clay said with as much strength as he could muster, “Let’s do this.” 

 

*******

 

Clay estimated that they’d been walking down the side of the mountain for about an hour now, and their progress was not what he’d hoped it would be. In fact, it was even slower than his more realistic guess had been. Even with the morphine, every step made bile rise in Clay’s throat and they’d had to stop multiple times for Clay to either take a breather or vomit up what little water he’d had. 

 

Clay was quickly becoming concerned about dehydration for the both of them, they didn’t have much water left and with the sun now beating down with all its might, the two men were sweating profusely. Clay’s head ached and it was getting harder to walk straight as the earth felt like it was moving underneath him. 

 

Brock wasn’t doing any better, while he had been semi-coherent at the start of the day, he was now reduced to slowly shuffling along, low moans occasionally escaping from his dry throat. Clay knew that they wouldn’t make it much farther. The problem was, they were only a little bit more than halfway down the mountain, and there were no villages along the way. Clay didn’t even know if the villages at the foot of the mountain would be welcoming to them. But, looking for a village was their only option and to be honest, Clay didn’t even know if there would be villages once they reached the bottom of the mountain. Maybe they had slid into an area where there was no civilization for miles. Maybe the landslide had carried them far away from their original location and the remainder of Bravo team would be unable to locate them in time. 

 

Clay could picture it now, Brock and himself stumbling on until their bodies gave out and then laying there, unconscious in the hot sun. They would lay there, undiscovered, for hours, then days. Bravo would come across their bodies and it would be too late. 

 

He violently shook his head, trying to dislodge the image from his mind. 

 

“We’re not going to die here,” He said as fiercely as he could, “We’re not going to die. Bravo will come, they’ll find us.” 

 

Brock didn’t respond and his head lolled against Clay’s shoulder. 

 

“I’m going to get us out of here,” Clay promised him, then shakily took another step forward. “One step at a time,” He coached himself, “One step at a time.”

 

It didn’t take long for that to become the only thing his mind was capable of thinking. He would take one step, and if he didn’t fall, he would take another. Then after that, another step. All other thoughts took too much effort. So when he heard a gun cock, the sound didn’t register. 

 

“Stop,” A heavily accented voice broke through some of the fog surrounding his brain, “Unless you want your friend to get shot in the head.” 

 

Clay came to a stuttering stop and pulled Brock up beside him, not quite understanding what was happening, but knowing that something was wrong and he needed to protect his teammate. 

 

He lifted up his gaze from where it had been long fixed on the path in front of him and was confronted with a gun pointed in his face and behind it, Erick Rossi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahaha, of course I would be so mean as to come back after more than a month and a half and then leave it on a cliff hanger.   
> I promise it won't be that long until the next chapter and if it is, feel free to pinch me lol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I’m back!! I’m so sorry for being gone for so long, thank you for your patience! 
> 
> Also sorry that this chapter isn’t very long, I wrote it on my break at work so I only had a limited amount of time :P that also means that this is not edited, so sorry for any mistakes!!

By the time Erik Rossi and his group had found the two SEALs, they looked more dead than alive. The blonde one, the one who spoke their language, was delirious from pain and dehydration. Even with the hot beating sun, the man was barely sweating a drop. The other SEAL slumped to the ground as soon as they separated the two of them. He was completely unconscious, a combination from the wound on his head and the hot sun Rossi guessed. 

 

Although six men now seemed like an overkill for these half dead soldiers, Rossi was glad that he’d brought them. There was no way the SEALs were getting down the mountain on their own two feet. He barked an order to his men and two of them went to hold the blond between them and two went to the brunet. With the soldiers being held up, the group descended the mountain much quicker than the SEALs were doing on their own. 

 

Rossi kicked himself for not bringing any medical supplies. He didn’t want the men to die before he got them down to his safe house and questioned them. They had to stop every couple of minutes to try to get the men to drink so they didn’t start having seizure from the heat. 

 

“Br-k,” The blond SEAL slurred, cracking open his eyes, then started when he saw Rossi leering down at him. “Gedoff me!” He tried to shake the two men off, but was too weak for anything other than sluggishly thrashing. 

 

“Your friend alive,” Rossi said harshly as the man gave up thrashing and stood there, panting and staring with glazed eyes. 

 

“We will get you to safe house,” Rossi continued. “Make sure you not die. Then you will wish you had.” 

 

********

 

Jason was beginning to feel hopeless. They had scoured the hill side, carefully trodding on the loose dirt, but hadn’t found a trace of Brock and Clay. Maybe they’d been buried in the landslide after all. 

 

“Jace!” Trent called from further down one of the paths, “I found something!” 

 

The rest of the team rushed to where Trent was kneeling in the dirt. He was holding an empty morphine cartridge. There were signs of a struggle in the dirt beside the path and scuff marks continuing to lead down the mountainside. 

 

“They’re alive,” Sonny’s voice cracked from relief. 

 

“Yeah, but how badly are they hurt?” Ray wondered out loud. 

 

“Lets not think about that now,” Jason interjected, “What matters is that we find them. We now know that they were going down this path, so let’s keep going down this way.” 

 

Jason peered down the steep slope, squinting against the bright sun. Something small, but moving, caught his eye. 

 

“Ray, binoculars.” 

 

Once Ray had passed them to him, he raised them and focussed on the far away mark near the base of the mountain. 

 

A group of men came into focus, lead by none other than Erik Rossi. And there, being half carried, were Brock and Clay. Jason breathes a sigh of relief, yet at the same time a lump formed in his throat. His brothers didn’t look good, in fact they both looked barely conscious, and Erik Rossi had them in his grasp. 

 

“They’re down there,” Jason lowered the binoculars, “But they’re in trouble.” 

 

*****

 

Clay began to come to awareness as they were nearing a collection of shacks at the foot of the mountain. It was too small to be a village, and it looked like it was full of Rossi’s men. So even if they hadn’t been caught by Rossi’s men, they would’ve stumbled right into their arms. 

 

Rossi had switched to using Portuguese, trying to cut Clay out of the conversation. Little did he know that Clay also understood Portuguese. But what he was hearing wasn’t promising. 

 

“Put then in the house, keep them just alive enough so that I can kill them myself,” Rossi ordered his men. 

 

Brick and Clay were shoved into a dingy shack, Clay stumbled and fell on his face. Brock landed on top of him, sending an excruciating wave of pain as his broken wrist was jostled. Clay also felt something warm leak from the wound, and despite trying not to, he looked at his wrist and almost threw up from what he saw. 

 

His wrist was swollen and an angry shade of red. Puss was leaking out around the makeshift splint Clay had made Rossi help him with. Infection had definitely set in and it was only a matter of time until sepsis came and with that would come the high potential of losing his arm. That is, if he lived long enough to get to a hospital. 

 

Clay was roughly hauled to his feet, and his injured leg buckled underneath him. He was dragged over to a small cot in the corner, and was laid down. His vision was blurry, but he could see Brock laying beside him in a similar situation. 

 

A face appeared in his field of vision, not an unkind face, but one that was tight and strained. 

 

“Let’s see if we can keep you and your friend alive for now,” The man said in slightly accented English, “Although I pray for you that you will die before that man comes in here for you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go! Another chapter! 
> 
> Hopefully it won’t take as long for the next one, but my writing style is to come up with plots on the go, which doesn’t really conform to schedules lol. I honestly have no idea where things are going after I post a chapter, so it’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you!
> 
> Have a good day everyone!


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